able. From that time, however, she evinced much penitence, and a spiritual-mindedness which surprised, as much as it comforted, her Christian visitors. The Bible, and Bogatzky's "Golden Treasury," were always at her side. One day, after a night of peculiar suffering, she named the 53rd chapter of Isaiah, saying, "I can't tell. how comforting that chapter is to me. It is one my kind Sunday-school Teacher took much pains to teach us. Though so long ago, I thought last night that I could see her face, and hear her voice, whilst explaining the love of Jesus to poor sinners. I did not care about. it then: indeed Miss A. had not a more heedless girl in the class-not one perhaps she thought so hopeless; but her kind lessons are now a blessing." The poor creature proceeded to express a hope that this might be communicated to her late Teacher; adding, "It will be a very great comfort to me to have her told it." The poor woman, in some measure, regained her health; and there is good ground for believing that she cleaves to that Saviour whom she had found so precious.

The other case was brought under my notice shortly afterwards, in the same parish. A poor girl, who had left her service in consequence of severe illness, shewed much anxiety for spiritual instruction. The little learning she possessed was acquired in a Sunday-school. She could not read the Bible, nor the simplest tract, well enough to be of much comfort. Her visitor was therefore surprised to observe a prayer book always on her bed; and when questioned as to the use she made of it, she replied, "I was taught the collects at the Sunday- · school, and the greatest pleasure I have, when alone, is studying them." This poor girl shewed much patience under acute suffering; and her reliance on the Saviour was, I believe, uninterrupted. She has now, I trust, entered into the "rest that remains for the people of. God." May we not feel assured, that in both the simple instances here related, a blessing rested on the labours of the Sunday-school Teacher; and should not every one engaged in the same work, in dependence on Divine assistance, "Thank God, and take courage?"

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and xvii. 10.) in the humiliation of the sinner, and the sufficiency of the Saviour. (1 Cor. i. 30, 31.)

There are two articles of prayer in this CollectI. That God would send his Holy Ghost to comfort us. Almighty God is a God of Comfort in tribulations, (2 Cor. i. 3-5.) and comforts those who mourn for sin, (Is. lvii. 17.) by granting them forgiveness. (Is. xl. 1, 2.) Such a comfort is a blessing. (Matt. v. 4.) The Holy Spirit was promised for comfort. (John xiv. 16, 17, 26. xv. 26. xvi. 7.) David had this comfort, (Ps. cxix. 50.) St. Paul had it; (2 Cor. vii. 4.) and they who are justified by faith have it. (Rom. v. 1.) Our prayer therefore for ourselves, as that of St. Paul for the Thessalonians, should be 2 Thess. ii. 16, 17. II. That he would exalt us unto the same place whither Christ is gone before.

1st. Here, in heart and life. (See Ascension-Day.) 2nd. Hereafter, in body and soul.

When Christ, our Life, shall appear, if we belong to him, we shall appear with him in glory, (Col. iii. 4.) and shall be made like unto him, (1 John iii. 2.) and be ever with the Lord, (1 Thess. iv. 17.) when death shall be swallowed up in victory. (1 Cor. xv. 52-54.) If we have this hope then, we must be always abounding in God's work now, (1 Cor. xv. 58.) and see that we become like him now. (2 Cor. iii. 18.)

Our prayer therefore should be Ps. xvi. 1, 8, 11.

ENCOURAGEMENT TO SUNDAY-SCHOOL TEACHERS.

I WAS a few months since called to visit a poor woman in sickness, of whom I had some knowledge, and whose meekness, under much trial and privation, had interested me; but, as she was deaf, no lengthened conversation had taken place: sufficient, however, was elicited to shew that she had, before her unhappy marriage, been a sad wanderer; and until confined to a chamber of sickness, no symptoms of true contrition had been discover

able. From that time, however, she evinced much penitence, and a spiritual-mindedness which surprised, as much as it comforted, her Christian visitors. The Bible, and Bogatzky's "Golden Treasury," were always at her side. One day, after a night of peculiar suffering, she named the 53rd chapter of Isaiah, saying, "I can't tell how comforting that chapter is to me. It is one my kind Sunday-school Teacher took much pains to teach us. Though so long ago, I thought last night that I could see her face, and hear her voice, whilst explaining the love of Jesus to poor sinners. I did not care about it then: indeed Miss A. had not a more heedless girl in the class-not one perhaps she thought so hopeless; but her kind lessons are now a blessing." The poor creature proceeded to express a hope that this might be communicated to her late Teacher; adding, "It will be a very great comfort to me to have her told it." The poor woman, in some measure, regained her health; and there is good ground for believing that she cleaves to that Saviour whom she had found so precious.

The other case was brought under my notice shortly afterwards, in the same parish. A poor girl, who had left her service in consequence of severe illness, shewed much anxiety for spiritual instruction. The little learning she possessed was acquired in a Sunday-school. She could not read the Bible, nor the simplest tract, well enough to be of much comfort. Her visitor was therefore surprised to observe a prayer book always on her bed; and when questioned as to the use she made of it, she replied, "I was taught the collects at the Sundayschool, and the greatest pleasure I have, when alone, is studying them." This poor girl shewed much patience under acute suffering; and her reliance on the Saviour was, I believe, uninterrupted. She has now, I trust, entered into the "rest that remains for the people of God." May we not feel assured, that in both the simple instances here related, a blessing rested on the labours of› the Sunday-school Teacher; and should not every one engaged in the same work, in dependence on Divine assistance, "Thank God, and take courage?"

EXTRACT FROM REV. J. ALLEN'S DIARY, FROM SINDE AND AFFGANISTAN.

THE hospitals presented a field of labour less pleasing to flesh and blood-for a field hospital is a crowded, uncomfortable place, with little opportunity for private communication with the patients, who lie so closely together that every word must necessarily be overheard by those on the right and left-but not less important than the schools, for there were many afflicted and distressed in mind and body, and needing the balm of consolation; nor less salutary to one's own mind; for there was much, particularly in the numbers of the young and strong, cut down, dried up, and withered by sickness, brought on from being in hot climates, which tended to impress upon the heart a solemn sense of the uncertainty of life, and the necessity for redeeming the time. My sympathies also were powerfully called forth by the circumstances of loneliness and desertion of those who, as fellow-countrymen and fellow-Christians, had every claim upon my kindness and aid. I recollect one instance in particular, which, if these notes should fall into the hands of young persons of a restless and discontented disposition at home, longing to break from the control of a parent or a master, may serve to shew the hollowness of those glowing pictures of eastern enjoyment with which designing persons are apt to dazzle the youthful mind.

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While conversing with a sick man, I observed, in a farther bed, a young lad of about nineteen, whose remarkably handsome countenance appeared to indicate some deeper feeling than mere pain of body; his hands were clasped, and his lips moving. I went up to him, and said, "You seem to be very ill;" I am indeed, sir," he replied, turning his dark eyes upon me: "I am sick both in body and soul." "What is it that distresses your mind?" I asked, taking my seat on the side of his bed. "Oh, sir," he said, in a low tone, “I am such a sinner! and I feel, (striking his heart,) I feel as if I could not repent as I wish, and I cannot pray properly-right from the heart." He wept as he spoke.

I told him of the grace which softens the heart, and enables us both to repent and to pray. I told him of the blessed Saviour who died for sinners, who declares, "Him that cometh unto me, I will in no wise cast out." He confessed to me that he had given way to habits of drinking and swearing, &c., but said that he had been well brought up, and taught to read and write. "I was a very good boy," he said, "till my father died. I was the eldest of the family; my mother could not control me, and I went into all evil. The worst company was the best for me; and I ran away and left my mother. My poor mother!" he repeated, and clasped his hands, while tears filled his eyes. I was much affected, and could have wept with him. He seemed to have derived considerable benefit from the hospital service, and regretted much that his illness prevented his reading. "I like to hear you, sir," he said; "and how kind it is to come and try to instruct us. There is a God in heaven will reward you for it, for we never can." I told him that we must all take our place, as unprofitable servants, as suppliants for mercy, and not claimants for reward. Ôn another occasion, he told me he felt easier in mind since he had unburthened his mental load to me. I reminded him of David's resolution, and its effects: "I said, I will confess my sin unto the Lord; and so thou forgavest the iniquity of my sin." I found he was a native of Herefordshire, and his father had been bailiff to a gentleman there, and that the persuasions of evil companions had induced him to enlist. He had been in India about one year. Poor fellow! contrasting the comforts and cleanliness of a Herefordshire grange, with all the miseries of a bad hospital, in temporary barracks, I could not but think, "how soon and how bitterly have you tasted the wages of sin, even in this world!" His unkindness to his mother seemed to weigh deeply on his mind. He told me he had received two letters from her, some months before. "It vexes me," he said, "more about her than myself, now I come to think." "Poor woman!" I said within myself, "what a blessing that you do not just now know the state he is in; for with the impossibility of getting to your boy, it would be